From greek πᾶν, “all”; δῶρον, “gift” and “holic”,
suffix that denotes one who has an addiction to.
Fanart&Moodboard / Fanfiction / Meme / Roleplay / Asks
Sequel / Anime / Video game
Archive and creative blog dedicated to Commissioner Hiwatari from DNAngel. Feel free to browse, support artists and send asks, even if we have never interacted before!
I am caught up with the manga, its DDNAngels sequel and other secundary verses; original manga canon will be favoured.
Relationships&Verses / Headcanons / Musing
Ongoing event:
Past events: 2026 Pride / Herbal Tea / 2026 April Fools / 2026 Valentine / 2025 Halloween / Gemstone Meanings / 2024 Whumptober / 2024 Valentine / 2023 Valentine / Secret Love / One Hundred Ways to say I Love You / Enemies to Lovers / 2019 Valentine
Hi everyone! Due to issues with the previous theme, fyeahiwatarikei has been undergoing maintenance!
What's new?
◆ New theme! Do you think the old one was thrown in the trash, axed or shot~?
◆ Navigation will now be available via the pinned post!
◆ Navigation now features an archive of past events for nostalgia needs
◆ Character tag for Dark
◆ Kei’s different relationships are now classified under separate “Verse” tags.
For example, pieces that romantically ship Kei with Kosuke will be tagged accordingly, while pieces where they just met will have their own tag. This way, everyone can search for dynamics they enjoy!
These tags will be used on original posts only, not on reblogs.
You can find the complete list of Verses here!
What has changed?
◆ The “mine” tag, which singled out fyeahiwatarikei original posts, has been removed. Posts that used this tag only were either moved to the roleplay or musing tags.
◆ The “quiz” tag has been removed. Quiz results have been moved to the musing tag.
◆ Refreshed tags on a few old posts. The headcanons tags has been brought back to life, with hopefully more posts to come!
What is next?
◆ Kei will absolutely appear in the upcoming chapter of DDNAngels. He has to, for my sanity. Let's cheer, yaaay~
◆ Character tags for Manismare, Risa, Daisuke, Takeshi, Masahiro, Daiki, Baku, Dir. Kuramochi, Daia, Maki and Tou
◆ A long list of personal headcanons is on its way
◆ A light-hearted mini asks game shall come, perhaps?
Kneeling as I offer my hands, ready to receive and swallow any Rio-themed story you feel like writing for the occasion. If there's Satoshi, I may be so blessed I'll live forever. Thank you for hosting this~
Before Satoshi’s birth, Rio hadn’t exactly cared for much. After all, she felt apathy towards all artworks and all kinds of matters.
Now, the woman held him in her arms as though he was a precious jewel.
She took the boy everywhere with her, something that Elm Root had noticed.
“You really care for that child, don’t you?” The artwork spoke, noticing that the artist before him had a mask of nonchalance on again.
“What makes you think so?” She answered with a question.
“You’re keeping him fairly close.”
Or was it perhaps out of some maternal instinct of sorts?
“As I was saying…”
There was something about the way the man spoke about history that the commissioner could listen to him contently.
A voice that the other could listen to all day.
“Um…Hiwatari-san?” Niwa looked over, slightly concerned.
“Was I boring you?”
Hiwatari simply shook his head, a ‘gentle’ smile still on his face.
“Quite the opposite actually, I find your insight on whether or not we have managed to salvage all the artworks from the Cultural Revolution very eye opening.”
At that, Niwa’s face started to light up.
“It’s not usual that I find someone who’s willing to listen about the subject.”
Ah…if only he knew what such a time was really like.
He would fix it, he would fix everything. All he needed to do was bring Kosuke out of there, even if the path behind them had collapsed, shutting the way down. The roof of the ancient building had given up long ago and allowed them to see patches of blue sky above; Kei was far from being the best climber in the area, but would be able to do it with perseverance.
“I’ll get you out of here.”
“You don’t look too good yourself, Hiwatari-san.”
He didn’t want to hear that from someone who had to rest on his back while pain perspired on his entire body, yet futilely tried to conceal it under a weak reassuring smile. Kosuke’s chest even struggled to let air in, fighting against broken ribs: a fool could have seen that the situation was critical, a demon would not have had the heart to abandon him there.
“Give me some time…” Kei responded.
However, darkness immediately overwhelmed his struggling mind and the words resonated, useless, haunting, as he sank. Unable to get a hold of the situation, he floated in half-consciousness for an undetermined period of time.
He would fix it.
He would never let Kosuke die. Nev e r .
When Kei’s eyes opened again, pressure crushed him down in the surrounding stillness. Even if the shoulder that supported him had stopped hurting, an underlying, subtle sensation of discomfort came and went through his heavy, unmovable limbs. He tried to bend his fingers and realised Kosuke held them – the man’s eyes shot open when he felt the movement.
“You’re awake…”
They shared the pain, unable to get up, an unfortunate matching pair of wounded puppets. Dust and dirt turned Kosuke’s face grey in several spots Kei didn’t have the strength to reach at and clean; he attempted to raise his hand, but his arm refused to obey, didn’t even manage to contract the muscles…
He knew his body and its resilient ability to mend itself: given enough time to rest, the artwork always lived, the living body always healed; he was basically immortal thanks to the perfect, symbiotic balance of Elm Root and the flesh that contained it. The actual question in this situation was whether Kosuke could afford to wait this long…
“I’ll get you out of here,” he reassured. There was always a way out, and their abilities combined c…
His head started spinning, forcing him to shut his eyes again.
Kosuke’s thumb caressed his hand, slow, soothing, and he allowed the pleasant sensation to spread up his arm, chase the soreness away. When he looked at him again, the man grinned, worry permeating his features.
In a ridiculous truth Kei felt stupid even thinking about, their hands fit each other perfectly: he loved Kosuke’s firmness, his steady gestures that only a distracted mind that thought about a million things per minute turned clumsy, he loved when they grew timid, uncertain, hesitant, and relaxed only when Kei became the one in charge. He adored their scars, the new marks gathered every day from his research, whether from ink or brushing against so much paper.
He loved that he could hold them, and that they held him back with equal intensity, that they understood him so well despite not knowing who – what he was. That he could be there, resting on the floor without a solution, and that they said this was fine, he understood, they were together. If Kei decided to save himself, Kosuke would always forgive, would gently squeeze his fingers before being left behind, which was beautifully terrifying.
“I’ll get you out of here…”
He would find a way. They would find a way.
If only his body agreed to respond… After many months of soothing indulgence with this man, if he truly loved him and wanted him to safely escape from this place, Kei really couldn’t afford to be weak… Just a few minutes and strength would return to his body. It had to.
Meanwhile, desperately undemanding, Kosuke quietly held his hand.
Hi, can you do KeixKrad, please? Prompt: These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real. It sounds like a fitting concept. Thanks
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
These wounds won’t seem to heal, this pain is just too real
“It must seem amusing to you, Elm Root.”
Said Elm Root couldn’t have cared less about the emotional turmoil of the unstable artwork that cursed the Hikari family with its permanent, implacable corruption but still had the sense to understand that his presence could mitigate some of it, at this moment. He approached in slow steps, ignoring the tiredness that had initially led him towards his own bedroom for a good night’s sleep and unfortunately made him cross paths with Krad in the process.
“You do witness, century after century, how nothing ever truly changes…”
Krad’s entire figure radiated the same pain as someone who had lost a limb and was left abandoned there, mutilated and unable to function, torn by pain and humiliation. His bones protruded, painful to look at, eyes lacked their usual cunning shine… He looked… broken.
“Perhaps you do not realise, but your face always changes, you know?”
With anyone else, Elm Root would have illustrated his words by brushing bangs out of his face in a mockingly tender gesture, but bringing his hand too close would have been too risky; instead, he sat down next to him, facing the window like he did.
The features of his Master had grown distant on the familiar face, changed alongside generations. So many decades ago, just seeing Krad’s face would clutch at his heart, but now… And the features remained faithfully engraved in the artwork’s heart despite all living traces having been lost to time.
“I did not know you were this superficial.”
He got it, he got it. He knew that this strange, ethereal being, despite apparent confidence, buried an endless craving for completion, for someone or something to fill the gaping, infinite craving in his chest, a role no one but his reluctant other half would ever be able to take. Every new body brought new expectations, whether in the Hikari himself or, sometimes, in sudden surges of hope, in the phantom thief’s change of heart – a change of heart that never happened and grew more distant with each confrontation.
The Niwa curse seemed perfectly fine with missing his other wing, instead choosing to replace it with pillaged art and spreading despair amongst artistic souls.
“Do you want me to say he will return to you? That he will come and comfort you, tell you he wants you again and bring the refinement you’re so desperately lusting after?”
“Your empty words do not matter to me, Elm Root.”
“What if I truly mean them?”
He absolutely didn’t, smiled at his interlocutor nonetheless.
“What could an artwork like the Black Wings desire but perfection? How could ‘Dark’ live in shallow incompleteness?”
Krad’s inhuman eyes slightly widened, seductive words making their way through his mind to touch him right where he needed them. Hope was a foolish emotion that defied all laws of reason and could resurface even when it seemed entirely lost: if Elm Root found anything amusing in this world, it had to be the way he could influence anyone – and anything – with ambiguous honesty, merely toying with hope.
“He desires you, his other wing, more than anything in this world.”
The artwork didn’t lower himself by asking if he was serious, didn’t know him well enough to guess on his own. Instead, he stared, life flowing back in his body, that already seemed to regain some energy. He was surprisingly easy to understand.
After all, he and Elm Root were the same, always pursuing what they could never obtain.
Thanks for the event!! 💕🌈 Can you do Old injury + Saehara, please~?
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
Old injury
“War wound…”
Not without pride, Saehara clenched his fist to show off the thin, irregular scar that ran along his inner forearm for the length of a hand. With time, it had taken on a pale shade, which turned to pink in irregular spots near regular skin.
“Got this less than 10 years ago, but she still wakes up, sometimes.”
He stretched his wrist, tensing the skin; how deep had the wound been? A little reading session at work would certainly confirm whether it was mentioned in the incident report, as well as the weapon that had caused it.
“How much does it hurt?”
“Let’s say it stirs… And I can’t carry anything heavy when it starts. No big deal! Just don’t expect me to carry you tonight.”
“I’ll be the one carrying you, then~”
“Oh?”
Kei seized Saehara’s arm and brought it closer for examination, meeting resistance for only a second. When his fingers came closer to the wound, however, the man’s fingers tensed, ready to pull back. It probably hurt worse than what he was pretending, if the mere soreness made him defensive…
He had never attempted soothing such pain; would his powers work on a sensation so deeply rooted in flesh and memory?
His only reference remained the few times a member of the Hikari family had allowed him close enough to try curative magic – nothing he wanted to think about, however, as his few moments with Saehara Jirō were for him to enjoy and forget about everything else.
He pressed into the skin, looking for the pain, and the man hissed… without retreating. He could feel it, dull and exhausting, more of a habit than a sharp reaction, but didn’t allow it to spread in his own fingertips when he shut his eyes to focus on dispersing it, soothing the nerves, alleviating the pressure. Working on an unclear source was fascinating, yet he wasn’t able to heal it per se, only remove some of the sensations. If the wound had been fresher, perhaps…
Eager to prove that he had some interesting tricks up his sleeve, Kei only let him go after making sure the pain had entirely disappeared, and Saehara retrieved an arm that felt as good as new – for now. The crisis had only been shortened, but the pain would return eventually, as it always did.
Kei’s fingers had left red marks on the skin, but his counterpart took a moment to appreciate the newfound comfort, observing the scar as if he could figure out what had just happened.
“When you get older, these things happen more and more, so make sure to take care of your body while it’s healthy.”
“I know, Inspector.” A single hand found its way to the man’s shoulder, and the latter glanced in his direction, finally abandoning useless scrutiny to look at what mattered. “I said I would be the one carrying you, so don’t worry~”
“You wouldn’t be able to!” Saehara laughed back, snapping out of his – moderate – gloom. He did look tired, enough to deserve receiving further treats…
“History is written by the victor.” + Also Kosuke~
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
“History is written by the victor.”
“Don’t you ever wonder who wrote these details about ancient figures in the first place?”
“Well… Historical accuracy is an important debate in the research field. Historians do have sources and follow them to a certain extent, even if their origins and truth levels are debatable. In the past, some of them have appeared to be false, but as long as they haven’t been disproved or contradicted by similar material, they keep being regarded as authority. There is also the tricky question of interpretive bias… Regarding the Hikari case, the source seems to be tradition and the few material traces left behind.”
“Perhaps the founder of the Hikari family was not delirious but passionate to an extreme degree. Regardless, don’t you think the real motivation behind his acts is obvious and endearing, in a way? If we take into consideration his devotion to his work and the most striking… results reaching us today, what else could it have been but love. Love for art itself, his patrons, or other individuals who happened to be part of his existence.”
“We unfortunately cannot verify the accuracy of this statement. If more artworks he had created had survived to this day, we could ask them, or at least try and understand the emotion they were originally supposed to carry…”
“Perhaps…”
“B-But love being the root cause of everything we study today would be an endearing explanation, for sure…! His artworks have been considered as dangerous despite their beauty, they had to contain a lot of power! Love is a powerful emotion!”
“There is always someone at home you can conveniently question about love, beauty and dangerous artworks, right? Make sure to keep me updated with your progress!”
Holding hands + Rio. I believe in your powers, bro 🙏
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
Holding hands
She was done. That was it, she had endured enough. She knew she shouldn’t have attended this stupid party, with all its elegant and refined guests who treated each other like meat. Who treated her like meat, like a single woman who awaited nothing more than a suitable fiancé they’d kindly place her way.
She was here for work, and if they didn’t want to hear about this, she was out of there! What a waste of her time…!
Rio left the conversation without looking back, fending off the crowd, though not in the direction of the door. Hopefully, she’d find her chaperone, or designated driver, or secretary, the only one in this damned place who showed any consideration for who she was and not what she could bring him, where she had last left him. On her right, some guy she had spoken to earlier asked her in his most polite voice if she was leaving, probably eager to pull a gallant last move and earn points in the non-existent race to her heart; she didn’t bother responding. He’d put his coat on someone else’s shoulders!
“Elm Root!” she called when she caught sight of the familiar silhouette.
Before he could protest that this was not how they had agreed to call him in public – she both forgot and didn’t care – Rio grabbed his hand and dragged him after her.
“We’re going home.”
He played his social role perfectly, glass of white wine still in his other hand, and managed to issue a confused apology to his interlocutors before disappearing in the crowd. Perhaps her grip was too strong, her steps betraying the helplessness that lay beneath anger; he didn’t ask any question, securely laced his fingers with hers in a tender gesture that deterred anyone else from approaching again.
Surely he had seen their eyes on her, perhaps he had even held hope that she would find herself a well-off gentleman during this pretentious soiree (Rio was not naïve: this meddling artwork would never give up on a beautiful opportunity served on a silver platter like this), hopefully he could understand that she was running away from this unrequited attention.
People would gossip. Good for them, if they didn’t have better things to do; she did! Elm Root would not ruin her reputation regardless.
His firm, faithful hand didn’t let go until she decided they were safe.
Her innocent little request – enthusiastically shouted in his general direction – made him turn away from the pool to verifying that she indeed was the source. After a puzzled second, he smiled politely, bowed his head and returned to his careful and useless observation.
He would not do the flip.
“You know,” she muttered, stirring the straw in her almost alcohol-free beverage in disappointment, “I’m starting to believe your boss is a really boring guy.”
Jirō, who had claimed the seat next to her, looked up from his cell phone to glance at her, then at him.
“If he’s so boring, stop bringing him along on every occasion!”
Couldn’t a woman lie down on a deckchair to enjoy a drink and a show during a holiday? Couldn’t a man try to impress said woman with some cool stunt just because he could? Tch.
“It’s been only twice, and I wouldn’t bring him along if he didn’t look so pathetic!”
“Commissioner Hiwatari does not look pathetic!”
“Sure, sure, whatever makes you feel good about your job.”
At least Hiwatari had had the decency to look positively interested in her swimsuit! And the fact that she managed to drag him to this place where he looked like a fish out of water – haha – was an achievement in itself! If only he stopped staring at his kid from the other side of the pool… She shouldn’t have used Takeshi as an excuse to lure – haha – him here…
“If he looks so pathetic, tell him to give me a pay raise.”
“Already did.”
That did shut Jirō up for a second and she innocently took a sip from her drink, looking at the man’s underwhelming short pants – anywhere but at her husband.
“And what did he say?”
“You don’t want to know what he asked me to do to get that pay raise, my dear.”
“What?!”
Hiwatari turned again, and Ayane slapped her husband’s shoulder to get him to cool and sit down again. Getting to see him beating up his boss would have made a good compensation for the show she didn’t get just earlier, but it’d also sign the end of any pay raise expectations. What an idiot!
“Just kidding; told you he was boring!”
She’d find something else, even if it took pushing him in there by herself!
June of fluffy feverwhump, KosuKei with “I’m not joking, it really is locked.”
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
“I’m not joking, it’s locked.”
The crate’s cover hit his back and he fell down to his knees in obscurity. Ow…!
“Are you okay, Hiwatari-san?!”
On all fours, breathless, Kei let the pain pass. He apparently hadn’t crushed any piece of Kosuke under him… Speaking of which, a hand blindly reached his side, checked his situation, retreated, leaving him cold where it had touched.
“There’s no way this shut on its own…”
“Are you perhaps implying that I got us trapped in this crate?” Kei asked, moving his sore shoulders. He brushed the top of the box merely by pushing on his arms: this place was tiny.
“N-No, not at all…!”
It had hit so fast he wasn’t certain what just happened: he had leaned forward, reached out to help his clumsy counterpart out of what seemed to be a large box, and… Was someone trying to get rid of two meddling visitors?
He pressed a finger to Kosuke’s face – hopefully close to his lips – to hush him, and they froze, senses on alert, listening to… silence. If someone lurked out there, they had either promptly left, or waited for their next move.
“There are gaps in the wood,” Kosuke whispered after a while. Indeed, the structure was rough: panels didn’t align properly, allowing some light to peek through. The man’s face approached a hole, and Kei saw a small light ray illuminating one of his eyes, just as he felt a thigh grazing his knee in the movement. Kosuke observed through the tiny gap, but returned to darkness seemingly without any element worth sharing.
They did… not have a lot of spare room. Kei could afford to give him space by spreading his legs, which would have meant nearly sitting on his companion in misfortune. Too soon, however. Too soon…
“Don’t move, Hiwatari-san.”
With a sound that would have roused any predator, Kosuke kicked the wood above them with his free leg. In vain.
“You’re definitely saving us, Niwa-san~”
“It… It’s sturdy…!”
His apologetic voice sounded entertaining by itself, but the man was right: they had to get out of there. Kei could always bring this situation up during future conversations when he needed a little distraction. Assuming whoever was out there was not determined to silence them.
Pushing on his arms and legs, he pressed his back against the wood, ready to add steady force to another kick.
“At the count of three. One… Two…”
The best thing about Kosuke Niwa was that he always promptly understood instructions, hints and various obscure innuendos: in a shared effort, they combined their strength and attempted to lift the wood that kept them trapped. The bad thing about Kosuke Niwa was that he always managed to get them in unexpected, dangerous situations that left them exposed… The wood creaked, protested, slightly bent under their struggle, but remained strong. They wouldn’t leave so easily…
Someone would have to let them out. This was bad.
Not enough light to see each other in there, but they would have exchanged a glance otherwise. Air did circulate through the gaps, preventing suffocation, but they’d soon grow warm and uncomfortable.
“Do you want to lie next to me?”
“Our legs would be in the way, right?”
Kosuke was admittedly tall, but he had to draw his knees up to fit in there – if Kei scooted back, he would have ended up touching one. Sadly, his body didn’t have the flexibility to adapt to the offer…
This was very bad. Under other circumstances, appreciating this proximity and teasing his companion endlessly would have been more than tempting, however, the idea of accidentally letting sweat drip on Kosuke while on all fours seemed like a worst-case scenario. The next best possibility…
“Since we will be waiting for longer, don’t mind me~”
One hand, then the other, came resting on Kosuke’s chest, and he lowered his shoulders to rest his head on him. There was no way this could be the most convenient solution, but it was the most pleasant one for the moment.
They could always watch out while slightly indulging, right?
Kosuke would leave what happened within the box within the box and Kei’s playful hands, right?
Most of the tower had obviously been built by specialised construction workers, who had deployed all their skills to honour the creator’s plans, follow his fantasies and artistic attempts while making sure the structure would remain steady and strong in the face of time, yet Fukami Hikari’s influence permeated the building in specific dots of power that made Elm Root’s fingers tingle when he touched the white stone. The artist had carved a stone, created a sculpture, adorned the door, in small, sharp energetic areas that built up and up towards the sky, where the bell waited, unused and adorned with the heavy, contained and durable magic that suited its nature and radiated through the entire construction.
This truly was his most impressive masterpiece.
“Congratulations, master Hikari! Look at this…”
Elm Root rubbed his palm once again against the stone, which resonated with all the art it supported – a truly pleasant sensation!
“What are you doing here?”
The man responsible for this massive creation slowly went down the spiral staircase, towards him. His figure had remained emaciated even after these years, and he seemingly needed a hand against the wall to stand properly. Elm Root stayed in the entrance, much aware that he had never been invited to see the tower, before its inauguration nor after.
Fukami and he had never seen each other again after that fateful night, years ago, and had never truly sought each other’s presence. The young man had grown, followed his own crooked path, made his own mistakes, and Elm Root, who would have failed to stop him in his self-destruction regardless, had stepped back to the side, observing him from afar.
This belfry, however…! Its magnificence proved that the Hikari artist had returned, more talented than he had ever been: despite his fainting physical strength, his career could only soar higher from that point on!
Fukami collapsed on a chair, whose only purpose was apparently to assist the master of the place during his inspections, and Elm Root approached, still elated by the beautiful discovery.
“You have done well, don’t you think?”
“I don’t need your opinion: this wasn’t destined to any of you.”
But his voice lacked resolve. He had remained himself, yet age and weakness had sharpened his features, painfully removing traces of his youthful self. Fukami had become handsome, haggard, charmingly exhausted… He did not seem upset that Elm Root had trespassed for a surprise visit of the completed site.
Fukami’s hands didn’t fit properly in his, but he cupped the cuts, the scars, the unsmooth, bony fingers. He turned them to witness the traces of what the tower had cost, caressed the unkempt nails that had suffered from fixing one last detail for posterity.
“Whatever you will create next will be very beautiful, Fukami-kun…”
“I’m not creating again.”
Elm Root shook his head, smiling patiently. He would; they always did. This was a new beginning for both of them.
“Now I realize that there is no righteous path.” + Krad~?
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
“Now I realize that there is no righteous path.”
Gold appeared right in front of his face, startled him: in a vain reflex, he recoiled, failing to move his body away. His elbows radiated with pain due to the fall yet faithfully supported him in his futile attempts to recover a proper posture. Krad knelt above him, blocking his attempts, features unreadable, eyes fixated on him.
Was this really how it would end? And for what?
“Ask your master: I can still prove myself useful to both of you. Don’t make a mistake you will later regret.”
“Why do you assume Sei-sama is currently not supporting my actions?”
Because he needs me, because I support him as much as I supported his mother before him, and the father of his mother, and every Hikari prior.
“I would know, Krad. Don’t…”
“Sometimes, you assume wrongly, Elm Root.”
The Hikari curse pushed him down against the floor, and he raised his hands in what hopefully would be an appeasing, harmless gesture. With a hand on his chest, there was no way Krad couldn’t perceive his accelerated heartbeat, but showing steady confidence could be his salvation. This being incarnated sins unlike any other artwork, which made him act like a wild beast at unexpected times. Where others displayed predictable behaviour, Krad blew up randomly, probably due to the human influences.
“Then, why don’t you tell me? Chances are that I can give you what you want.”
“By making yourself indispensable?”
So, that had been the issue? Elm Root had displayed such helpful behaviour that this curse had grown jealous and wanted him gone? How frivolous: he was a mere asset in Sei’s success…
“He does find you irreplaceable…”
Krad’s thumb found his lower lip, brushed it with surprising softness – Elm Root braced himself for a rough gesture that didn’t come. Was he really saying…?
“We…” He had to be careful. Very careful… The boy did… No way… “I don’t have a heart. You are wasting your time, both of you.”
“He is young and ignores such uncomfortable truths.”
Their physical closeness suddenly hit him differently, unease rising within. If he managed to kick Krad in the stomach and push him to the side, he could probably stand and make an escape. What was that thing even doing, playing with emotions that did not belong to him?
Elm Root was not their toy.
He backed off, pushing off his legs until he hit the wall behind him, and managed to sit before Krad’s hand slammed against the wall behind him, trapping him in an uncomfortable yet defensible position. He grabbed the wrist to push it up, but the other hand found its way to his jaw, crushing his face and neck under the weight, and he let him regain balance.
Krad brought his own body closer, blocking legs and invading private space: gold became all Elm Root could see, back aching, fingers digging into his cheeks, and he stared back.
All reasoning had left him, his mind looping over a mortifying realisation: how could Sei grow feelings for him? What had he done to deserve this…?
Don't know what you're expecting of me + Kosuke! /o/
Pride 2026 – “June of fluffy Feverwhump”
Don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Heavy clouds poured water as far as the eye could see, darkening the sky to the point where it seemed like night was about to fall. Slowly, the hills before them disappeared, drowned in humidity, and Kosuke looked up to check whether the foliage would suffice to protect them from the downpour. Its thickness was thankfully doing wonders, but for how much longer?
Imitating Kei, he sat down, ready to wait for as long as it would take. They had not anticipated this sudden rain and couldn’t have worn less suitable clothes: they were stuck in there… unless one of them decided to call a friend who happened to own a car for help. Did Kosuke know someone fitting those criteria? Did Kei…?
Often, Kosuke felt that they had found each other thanks to their enjoyment of solitude… Which indeed appeared comfortable and pleasant, but also quite isolating in times of need. No one would come for them…
“What are you thinking about?”
Without realising, Kosuke had been staring at him; he immediately looked away, readjusting his position to make sure the rain couldn’t threaten to reach his legs.
“Nothing in particular. Just that being here is… not that bad.”
This could have been an inviting moment, if they ignored the cold that threatened to penetrate flesh and bones the minute they got wet… Kosuke was an expert at surviving outdoors, how could he have made such a rookie mistake? They were safe and dry, only for now. How would he protect Kei once the tree gave in to the humidity?
… No, not like that, come on.
“It’s always fascinating to look at…”
“What is?”
“How expressive your face becomes when you’re deep in thoughts~”
Kosuke forced his respiration to remain steady in vain hope that he, somehow, could control his face and stop turning red at the first comment. Did he really think that much?
Oh. Most probably, yes…
As long as Kei didn’t magically develop the ability to read his mind and witness how frequently worries about his own failures alternated with the desire to forget about them in bed… Or under a tree, while praying for foliage to offer its protection much, much longer.
“There’s always a lot to reflect on, I guess,” he managed to respond, before painfully realising he couldn’t have sounded vaguer than that.
“Don’t you wish it could stop, sometimes?”
The thinking? No. The bothersome thoughts? All the time, even if, with age and experience, he had gotten much better at discarding useless worries. However, despite his young age, Kei worked as a policeman, which trained him to be reasonable at all times, and he always dealt smoothly with his emotions – a quality Kosuke secretly envied. Relying on Kei could be so easy, initial times of suspicion gone…
Ah. He had done it again, right? When their eyes met again, Kei was observing him with amusement. In the dim light, his glasses fogged up, nearly concealing eyes that reflected the greyish green hues around them. Was he cold…? Where droplets had touched his own back and shoulders, Kosuke could feel a chill…
“I didn’t see the forecast and dragged you into this situation. If anything, I should have thought harder… I’m sorry.”
“Why are you worrying so much?”
Kei’s hand reached his elbow, and he felt the icy fingers through the thin fabric of his sweatshirt. Oh no…
“It was a pleasant day, right? You do not realise how important such moments can be.”
“You’re cold…”
Ignoring his accelerating heartbeat, Kosuke moved towards him to catch him in a firm embrace. Together, they would hopefully radiate enough warmth to avoid any future harm…
Kei’s hands found their way against his back, with the pleasant firmness Kosuke – now almot grateful for the shelter of heavy rain – adored. They never held each other in public, yet Kei had eased into this without hesitation… Could it be that he didn’t resent him at all for the disastrous organisation?
“Sometimes…”
Kosuke shut his eyes, focussing on the low voice that hardly reached him over the deluge that just intensified.
“All I want is for you to repel all the thoughts…”
He loosened his grasp, and Kei accompanied the gesture, allowing him to offer a kiss. Being together just like this, away from duties for a few hours had to feel like more than fresh air for such a busy man… Always initiating their few escapades out of town, he had expected Kei to indulge him, not actually enjoy these moments together…
To be fair, guessing what that man truly enjoyed was a difficult game, as his face truly lit up in front of a new art exhibition announcement… Or cake.
“I will”, he whispered against his freezing lips. “I will, I promise.”
As often as possible, and more responsibly. And if he ever made a mistake, like that day…
“Perhaps you already have, don’t you think?”
“Can I do it more?”
He would make up for it, kiss him more, hold him more intensely, slide hands under his shirt to warm his body up, let him savour his skin, enjoy his touch, forget about his worries. Anything to ease his mind and allow his body to rest…
The anger in these words arrests his movement but, when he turns around to look up at his master, he notices the quickened breathing, which reveals that he has run to the entrance; the pain, the fear in his eyes: he is not in trouble, has never been.
“Someone has to get the supplies you want, right?” the apprentice responds.
He shuts the entrance door so the entire street doesn’t have to enjoy yet another dramatic tantrum from the Hikari artist – his walk far from this cursed place can wait, he first has to calm his master down.
“And why does it have to be you? You, go back!”
Despair rises in the tone of voice and the man scrambles down the stairs, pointing imperiously at the hall behind him. He did not act so proud, an hour prior, when he needed to let it all out, from disappointment to frustration, on his apprentices. This time, he has not played favourites – quite the opposite…
At first, he hasn’t minded shielding his peers, but the reprimands had grown too personal, the hatred hitting too close to home. He felt the disgust, the envy, the desire to hurt.
“Now, now, look at yourself…” he responds, unable to repress a smile of satisfaction.
This is their normal dynamic: he pulls a tissue out of a pocket, steps forward to wipe his tears, offer the comfort this passionate man so desperately needs. What would he even become without the dedicated army of apprentices witnessing his intense fits of agitation, crushed under the weight of their watchful gazes? He despises as much as he loves them, and this one in particular even feels – wishes – at times, that he is special, thanks to his constant devotion…
Until the berating session earlier…
His master rebuffs him, rubs his own face with an arm to remove evidence.
“You’ll go another time: I need your help for more important matters, now!”
“Alright, alright. What is it?”
He really cannot promise that he would have returned from his moment of privacy outside… Nevertheless, this fleeting emotion will pass, like all the others. For now, he has to reassure his beloved master…
The pile of paper, stapled with little care, dropped onto his desk with a defiance that echoed the light in Inspector Saehara’s eyes. As it retreated, the man’s left hand failed to conceal the fresh, bloody bruises on its back; something had been punched, seemingly hard…
“A difficult evening, apparently,” Kei commented, sliding the untidy folder across the smooth, wooden surface for a closer glance. “How did you get hurt?”
“Some annoying guy. You’ll probably have to issue a public apology tomorrow.”
His tone of voice indicated that amends were anything but heartfelt, at this moment. Saehara never allowed himself to show insolence in front of superiors, as the well-trained dog he was; definitely a very difficult evening. Not that Kei minded a hint of controlled rebellion once in a while, quite the opposite. He smiled indulgently:
“Hitting someone would be quite out of character for you, Inspector.”
The hand reappeared from the pocket it had retreated into, and Saehara examined the wound, alternately stretching and closing his hand. It had apparently stopped bleeding, but hadn’t received proper treatment… It had to be painful. For a brief second, Kei considered offering to patch it himself.
“Yeah, it was a wall… Bad day.”
Under other circumstances, he would have asked whether hitting said wall had been worth it, knowing the answer perfectly well, but perhaps upsetting Saehara further wasn’t the wisest course of action. The commissioner tore his gaze from the damaged skin, pretending to pay attention to the first pages of the report; the distracting mental image of this hand, scratched, bleeding, calloused and angry, rubbing against the bare skin of his own flank would have to be explored later, in complete privacy.
“Get this treated, Inspector, and have a good evening.”
If only he had caught sight of the right hand as well…
